"𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇"

❝🌸❞・𝟽

Kuroo's permanent move to the hospital had been less monumental than Kenma had thought it would be.

Less than 24 hours after an episode where Kuroo had struggled to force air into his lungs to an extent where Kenma was seconds away from calling an ambulance, they'd made the decision it was for the best, even if it was terribly hard to admit. Kenma had called up the hospital, helped Kuroo pack anything he'd need into a duffel bag, and then off they went.

Neither of them mentioned that it was probably the last time that Kuroo would step foot into their apartment.

They'd settled Kuroo into a private room pretty fast, Kenma making sure to draw open the window as soon as they arrived. The white walls and antiseptic smell turned Kenma's stomach, the room far too impersonal and jarring for him to feel comfortable knowing that this was now Kuroo's home.

Time seemed to move exceptionally fast after that. Hours flew by, Kenma barely had enough in a day to fit both work and spending as much time at the hospital as he wanted to. The thought of Kuroo alone in an alien white room was enough to make his blood run cold.

Luckily enough, Bokuto and Akaashi visited as often as they were free. Bokuto's laughter often filled up the small room, plus he'd helped Kenma decorate it with photos and ugly cat memes that they knew Kuroo would love, as well as glow-in-the-dark stars in the shape of some of Kuroo's favourite constellations on the walls. Kuroo's eyes had lit up when they turned out the lights to let them glow the first time, delighted to have the stars keep him company.

In addition to this, the hospital was only three blocks away from Akaashi's publishing firm, he often spent his lunch breaks with Kuroo, sending Kenma photos of the both of them to keep him updated. Kenma had been quick to set one of Kuroo laughing as his lock screen.

Days turned to weeks, and months were creeping up on them. Kuroo's condition worsened at a rapidly increasing pace, just as Dr Yamazaki had warned that it would. Kuroo took it in stride, though. He never contested the addition of another tube or wire, respirator or machine.

One day, when the cherry blossoms were blooming in the park that Kenma walked past to get to the hospital each day, Kenma had the horrible thought that he didn't really recognise Kuroo any more.

He hated himself for thinking it, but it was too late to take it back.

Kuroo had been asleep at the time, head leaning to the side, the veins in his neck contrasted against his otherwise pale skin. His face looked gaunt, his lips curving down. His usual bed hair was now permanently pressed against his forehead, losing all its liveliness against the stiff hospital pillows. The seemingly endless tubes poked from his skin made Kenma's arms itch, holding him in his place leaning against the door.

It didn't look like his Kuroo any more.

Kenma still didn't love him any less.

He bit his bottom lip, still paralysed in the doorframe. He'd never been so hesitant when it came to Kuroo before, and he didn't know why. His head knew he was being irrational, this was still his Kuroo, if only he could convince his heart of this.

Kenma scrunched his nose, a momentary wave of self-loathing washing over him. He wasn't going to start thinking like this now.

He loved Kuroo. He really did.

As though he could hear Kenma's thoughts, Kuroo stirred, eyes cracking open. "Hey, kitten."

"Hi," Kenma replied. He lifted his hand in a small wave. "How are you today?"

"'M good. Keiji came over. Told me how the manga he's editing is gonna end." Kuroo blinked at him, trying to rid himself of the grips of sleep. "How're you?"